


Healing Times May Vary

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The after math of a fight is rarely a lot of fun</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Times May Vary

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'healing' square on my [cottoncandy-bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card.
> 
> My apologies for the lame-ass title

It's never going to stop being the grossest thing Stiles has ever seen, watching a mangled werewolf knit bone and flesh and skin back together, right in front of him. It usually makes him want to throw up a little.

It's also, at the same time, the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Watching the damage fall away with flakes of dried blood, leaving behind straight strong limbs and fresh new skin. No scars or lasting damage, leaving people he cares for deeply to live another day.

This time it was Derek who was hurt the worst of all the wolves, but he was the first on his feet partly because he's the Alpha, and partly because stubborn asshole who refuses to admit weakness. Derek went from one wolf to the next making sure everyone was healing okay. 

Finally Derek came over to sit where Stiles was perched on an overgrown rock wall. Stiles moved over to make room and hissed at the reminder of his own injuries. His back protested moving, and his ribs ached when he gasped. It hurt, but not too bad. At least he wasn't a bloody mangled mess. The worst thing about the fight was the way Derek's eyes narrowed now, then focused on him.

“You're hurt!” Derek accused.

“Only a little.” Stiles tried to dismiss. It was true, he _was_ only a little banged up compared to the beating the werewolves had taken. 

“Stiles. We've talked about this.” Derek grumbled, eyebrows scrunching together, his face a perfect blend of annoyance and resignation. As if he knew he was right and doomed to spend the rest of forever arguing this point. “Show me.”

Stiles sighed but didn't argue. They _did_ have a deal, after all. A deal that Derek had no qualms about quoting if Stiles resisted Derek’s compulsive need to see for himself that Stiles was okay. Stiles reached for his shirt without argument. Showing Derek his boo-boos was a small price to pay when in return he got to remind Derek of the need to communicate, with actual words. It was a fair trade off really. Right up until the moment when Stiles had to lift his arms and tried to pull his shirt up.

“ _Fuck_!” Stiles gasped and dropped his arms immediately, clamping them against his screaming ribs.

“Shit! Stiles!” Derek reached out, stopping at the last second, before continuing on more slowly and carefully. 

Stiles tried to keep his breathing even and shallow while Derek carefully lifted Stiles' shirts. Stiles let him, knowing a couple of things without doubt; Derek would be as careful as possible and Derek _needed_ to see for himself what the damage was. 

Derek very carefully and gently worked Stiles shirts up to the top of the mess Stiles knew was across his back.

“Broken?” Derek asked. 

“Bruised, I think. Maybe one cracked, but no breaks.” He was unfortunately well acquainted with what getting slammed into a pine tree did to the human body. He'd hurt his ribs enough by now that he knew exactly what a break, or a bruise or a crack felt like. 

He also knew the prognosis. It would already be an ugly mess that would only get worse over the next couple of days. It would take weeks for the pain to be manageable, and weeks for it to heal completely. It would also take weeks for Derek to quit wincing every time Stiles did. That was almost worse than the bruising and the ribs.

Derek gently worked his shirts back into place and then turned to speak quietly to the pack while Stiles slouched down letting some tension slip away. Derek would handle whatever needed to be handled. Stiles could just stay where he was for now and concentrate on making sure breathing didn’t hurt too much.

 

“Come on.” Derek said quietly in his ear, startling Stiles out of the half sleep he had fallen into. 

Stiles stalled when he tried to stand. His legs were a little shaky and felt like they were going to buckle. Stiles guessed he was maybe a little more banged up than he first thought, maybe he was just at the end of his reserves. Whatever it was, Stiles pushed through it and got to his feet. Nothing was going to feel better if he stayed sitting outside in the cold. He needed to get home, eat some pain killers and go to sleep on the world's most comfortable bed, which coincidentally he _owned_. All he had to do was get there. At this point he didn’t think he'd even bother getting undressed. Collapsing fully clothed held a certain appeal.

Stiles turned toward the jeep but Derek was there stopping him. “I'll come back a get it later. Let me drive you.”

Stiles nodded, too tired to argue, and let Derek herd him over to the Camaro. 

His back seized up halfway into the passenger seat, the muscles clenching against any more movement, tight and hurting so bad Stiles couldn't hold back a groan. Derek was at his side as quick as Stiles had ever seen him move, there to help. Stiles gripped Derek's arms and gratefully, used Derek's steadiness to lower himself into the seat. Stiles drew the line at having his legs lifted in and smacked Derek's hands away when he tried. A man had to have some pride.

“I'm not broken, Derek. Just a little... tenderized. I'll be okay.” Derek looked a little pissy at that. Stiles tried to placate him. “Honest, dude. Nothing serious, nothing that hasn't happened before.”

Derek’s shoulder sagged at that. “I know.” he said resignedly and closed the door carefully before going around to get in himself. He didn't start the car immediately, and Stiles waited for whatever Derek had to say. It took him a minute. 

“I just- I need you to be... okay. I know... I know you are tougher than you look. I know that being human doesn't mean being weak. I know you are as careful as you can be, and you're smart and resourceful and competent. It's just. I _need_ you to be okay.” 

Stiles felt his chest tighten at the base honesty in Derek's words.“I know, and I am trying. I _promise_. Now take me home. You can watch me sleep, ya big creeper. Maybe I'll let you rub Arnica on my bruises. I'll even let you mother-hen me a little while shit heals. Just don't tell the betas. You know how annoying they get when they think they have a license to fuss.”

It was all Stiles had to offer him after a fight that hard, the knowledge that Stiles would heal and Derek would help him.

 

Derek started the car and dropped it into gear. Stiles was asleep by the time they got home and the temptation had to be there to just let him sleep.

Derek gently shook his shoulder instead “Stiles. We're home.”


End file.
